Étrange
by Ms. Writeable This
Summary: The Doctor and Romana have begun to realize their affection for each other. A trip to Paris helps them overcome the strangeness of their situation. One-shot, Four/Romana, very fluffy.


**Title:** Étrange**  
>Word Count:<strong> 1,607  
><strong>Rating:<strong> K+  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Romance, Fluff  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Four/Romana  
><strong>Summary: <strong>The Doctor and Romana have begun to realize their affection for each other. A trip to Paris helps them overcome the strangeness of their situation.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Doctor Who or anything remotely as interesting.

* * *

><p>They made it back to Paris at last, and this time there were no time slips or Jagaroth or threats to the existence of humanity to deal with. While this was a refreshing and encouraging change of pace, Romana found that she didn't quite know what to do with herself, around the Doctor at least, now that she wasn't running for her life. Yes, there had been those times between catastrophes when they visited wild and fascinating places, and even times when they simply floated in the vortex while the TARDIS recalibrated itself, sitting together in the library, passing books back and forth and discussing the merits of the various forms of Lurellian prose; but this trip was something altogether different. This was planned. The Doctor never really <em>planned<em> anything, and yet he had put thought into taking her here, taken cares to make sure he navigated correctly. It was all rather disconcerting. Although, she had to admit, her nervousness probably had more to do with the fact that, exactly one week ago, he had kissed her.

They had only very narrowly escaped a horde of venomous, stinging, crow-like birds that the native of that particular planet like to keep as pets. It had been Romana who had rewired a nearby transmitter box to emit a signal that would keep the creatures at bay, thus allowing the Doctor to escape the village unscathed. From there it had been a mad sprint through a forest to the clearing where they had parked the TARDIS and by the time they reached the familiar blue box they were both panting and laughing. He'd looked at her then, with that mad grin and blue eyes shining, and she felt her face grow warm and a catch in her throat that had nothing to do with the running they'd done. The Doctor took two quick steps towards her and, after approximately half a second of hesitation, raised a hand gently to her cheek, dipped his head, and kissed her. Romana suddenly felt as though every molecule of air had been removed from her body, respiratory bypass and all. She was quite perplexed, for a moment, wondering what exactly one was meant to do in such a circumstance, before everything caught up with her all at once and she was no longer frozen but leaning into his touch, eyes closed, and her hand having somehow found its way to his shoulder of its own accord. Afterwards, when she mulled it over in her mind (and she did, extensively) she supposed some sort of instinct had taken over, because she certainly hadn't been consciously deciding her actions. Instead, she was rather preoccupied with how pleasant it all felt, the peculiar warm feeling that came over her and, strangely, how his lips were somehow softer than she might have expected. It was all over before she could properly wrap her head around it, however, as a scratch the Doctor had received in his scuffle with the birds began to react to the remnants of the venom, requiring a trip to the TARDIS's med room.

Neither of them had brought up the subject of the kiss in the days since, mostly because there had been little time for casual conversation as they seemed to be bouncing from on dangerous adventure to another. That was, until that morning, of course, when the Doctor deliberately disabled the randomizer and informed Romana that she ought to change into something suitable for 20th century Earth as they would "finally be finishing that holiday in Paris". It was an unusual turn of events, but she had grown accustomed to trusting in the Doctor's various eccentricities, so she did as he requested. It was only when she returned to the console room a few moments later, in a white and pink sundress, that she began to feel funny twinges of nervousness. The Doctor, she noted, had taken the time to change his jacket to one less wrinkled and travel-worn. She earnestly tried to convince herself that this was explainable by the fact that he'd been traipsing about in his other clothes through all sorts of trouble for over a week, that changing into a nicer jacket for a trip to Paris was not all that out of character for him. She faltered in this line of thinking, however, as he ushered her out the door with a bright grin that seemed somewhat too hyperactive, even for him. As they walked leisurely along the boulevards, the Doctor rambling about architecture and history, Romana found that her mind seemed stuck on the fact that they had not had a calm moment together like this since the kiss, and that she was keenly aware of how her hand felt in his. For a while she entertained the idea that perhaps she was a bit ill. Certainly it wasn't healthy for a part of her mind to be always drifting back towards that brief moment by the TARDIS, no matter what the current topic of conversation. Though perhaps, she reasoned, it was due in part to the fact that their conversation was somewhat awkward and halting. Even the Doctor's monologues seemed unusual. One moment he would be speaking very rapidly about barricades and revolutions and the next he would pause mid-sentence and she'd look up to find him looking at her, smiling sheepishly.

Eventually, the Doctor suggested they stop for dinner at an open-air restaurant, which turned out to be very lovely. Indeed, after a few glasses of wine between the two of them ("It has a nice _bouquet_." She couldn't help but mention, with a smirk.), their earlier apprehensions seemed to ease and conversation became easier. They discussed the week's escapades and mishaps, though carefully avoiding mention of the planet with the venomous birds, and speculated as to whether it might be alright to leave the randomizer off for a while and visit some places of their choosing. They left the restaurant cheerfully, hand-in-hand, and set off to walk along the Seine. They talked about trivial things, like flutterwings and quantum physics, watching the City of Lights live up to its name in the gathering darkness.

By the time the sun had completely set, they were sitting on a grassy area by the water, their quiet conversation having turned back to where they were.

"Do you know what the origin of the name _Seine_ is, Romana?"

"French, I'd suppose."

"Celtic, actually."

"Really?"

"Mhm, derived from the word _sicauna_, and what do you think that roughly translates to?"

She thought for a moment, her mind leaning towards terms like "serenity", "happiness", and "affection", as they seemed to fit the scenery rather well.

"Contentment, perhaps?"

"No..._weird cat_."

She burst into a fit of laughter, which seemed to have been his goal as he chuckled along with her.

"You're not serious," she said, between continued giggles.

"I am perfectly serious!" he replied, attempting to sound mildly offended, but failing due to the smile on his face, "As far as they are able to tell, the French derived the word from Latin which derived from the Celtic term for _weird cat_!"

Romana shook her head and continued laughing softly, wrapping her arms around herself against the slight breeze coming off the apparently "feline" water. She vaguely wished she'd thought to bring a jumper to wear over this dress. A moment later, however, she felt soft fabric across her shoulders and looked up from the reflections in the water to see the Doctor gently draping her in a portion of that absurdly long scarf. He had the same sheepish smile on his face that she'd seen earlier in the day, and the look she gave him must have been questioning because he said, simply,

"It's a bit cold."

She smiled up at him in reply and shifted closer to him to better facilitate the sharing of the multi-colored accessory. Neither said anything for quite some time, enjoying the comfortable silence broken only by the lap of the river against the banks and the vague hum of the city around them. Romana toyed with the tassels at the end of the scarf nearest her, examining the way the various colors appeared in the dim light, noting which strands of yarn were shorter, which had been cut or torn or singed. The Doctor looked down at her, watching the same lights reflecting off the river and onto her hair, creating strange and fascinating patterns.

"Romana," he said eventually.

She turned her head to look up at him and found his face was very close to hers. The light blue eyes which she'd once thought so odd were scanning her features carefully, making her very aware of the blush rising in her cheeks, just as it had a week ago. This time, at least, she had the presence of mind to close her eyes. This time, as his lips pressed against hers, she knew precisely what was going on. She wasn't floundering for her mental capacities while trying to comprehend being kissed by the Doctor. She was being kissed by a man she was completely enamored with, despite all of his strangeness, and they were sitting in Paris which, despite being very human, was quite romantic, and she was allowing herself to get lost in this moment, setting all her usual practicalities aside, and she was enjoying all of this very much. She was also curling her fingers into a soft, purple segment of knitting and firmly reciprocating the kiss she received.

The Doctor smiled when they eventually pulled apart, albeit slightly, and said quietly,

"Well, I'm glad we settled that matter, finally."


End file.
